Creative Writing

Creative Writing

Cold Stone

Stone plinths carry the weight of a cold— Marble mother clinging to a son in rags; Covered in blood and thorns and sorrows. Lying...

The Trees

It was one of those not-quite-autumn days. One of her favourite kind of days. One of those days where it was still warm enough...

A Wakeful Dark beneath the Eyes

Words cannot describe how sorry I am. I know exactly how you came across this, which books you’ve frantically read, what you desperately scoured...

Atman

I try to make something different, I really do. But he’s still there. He always finds me. It was a long time ago when...

“Please can I have a bedtime story?”

You beg for a story, it’s long past your bedtime, But I suppose one little tale wouldn’t be a crime, I’ve only just come out...

Starting Again

The cover cracks unhappily as I thumb the first page and lay the journal open on my bed. The cap comes apart from the...